Chapter 18
DOUGLAS DID INDEED HAVE A NASTY GASH on the back of his head. Four stitches had been required, an extra one due to the swelling. Thankfully, he hadn’t woken up for the plying of that needle.
Dr. Culden was less concerned about the wound than the fever that caused Douglas to keep passing out. Culden, who was gentry by birth, had become a doctor by choice. He knew them all personally and had been Margaret’s doctor since she was a child.
By all accounts, it appeared that Douglas had lain unconscious in that cold puddle of water for close to an hour.
Dr. Culden couldn’t determine whether the fever was from an infection or a chill he’d caught from the water.
The current fear was that he would slip into a state from which he wouldn’t awaken.
“I’ve seen it before,” Dr. Culden told Margaret before he left. “Not often, surely, but I had one patient who didn’t wake up for three weeks, and another who never woke up.”
“Never?”
“Died, that poor woman.”
“From lack of nourishment?” Margaret asked.
“No, we forced hearty liquids down her throat with a funnel, but it wasn’t enough. Just wasted away eventually, about a year later. Head wound caused it.”
Margaret shouldn’t have asked. Good God, how ghastly, and just what she didn’t need to hear at that point. That wasn’t going to happen to Douglas. She wouldn’t allow it.
“Now, I don’t mean to alarm you, Margaret. Douglas is a strong, healthy man. I’m sure he’ll come to,” he continued. “He’s been weakened by the blood loss. That alone could account for his passing out. We’ll likely know more about his condition by this evening. I’ll return tonight.”
“Thank you.”
“He’ll need constant attention for the time being, though.
Station one of the maids at his bedside.
If he wakes up and tries to get out of bed, he could fall and injure himself further.
And when he does wake, if I know Douglas and I do, he won’t want to stay in bed.
But he must. You’re probably the only one he’ll listen to, Margaret.
I hope you’re staying here for the duration? ”
“Well, I—certainly, if you think it’s necessary.”
“I do.”
He gave her further instructions on how to deal with the fever, commonsense things she already knew.
With Douglas settled for the moment, she went in search of Abigail.
She had to be apprised of the situation, if Denton hadn’t already told her.
He probably hadn’t. He didn’t like delivering bad news. Neither did she, but someone had to.
Abbie was no longer in the parlor, though the evidence was there that she’d had tea. She was probably quite put out that Margaret and Sebastian hadn’t returned to visit with her. Then again, she might have forgotten all about it by now.
Margaret was told Abigail had gone up to her room to prepare for dinner. To take a nap was more likely. So Margaret knocked softly on the door in case she was sleeping.
“Come in!” she heard from the other side.
She did. Abigail was at her desk, using a looking glass to try and make out the words in a letter she’d received.
“I thought you might be sleeping,” Margaret began.
“I don’t take afternoon naps anymore. Sleeping my life away is not a good idea at my age.”
Margaret would have grinned if she weren’t so worried.
Abigail might think she had given up napping, but in fact she nodded off quite often while sitting in a chair, then refused to admit she’d fallen asleep when she was woken.
Just resting her eyes was her usual excuse.
Everyone was kind enough not to mention the snoring.
“We need to talk, Abbie,” Margaret said and pulled up a chair near the desk.
“Splendid. You know I love chatting with you, m’dear, and we’ve time for a nice long one before dinner.”
“I’m afraid I have some bad news. Douglas had an accident.”
“Thank goodness Sebastian is home now! He’ll take care of it.”
“Well, this one has had a serious consequence—no, no, he’s all right,” she quickly added when some of the color drained from Abigail’s face. “But he’s got a very high fever.”
Abigail frowned. “He’s had fevers before. Everyone gets the fevers, gel.”
“But Dr. Culden isn’t sure what’s causing this one yet.
Douglas took a bad fall and gashed his head.
But worse, he landed in a puddle of water, and who knows how long he lay there.
The water probably wasn’t frigid, but there’s definitely a chill wind out there today with the rain we’ve been having. ”
“You’re implying something. Don’t beat around the bush, gel. Spit it out.”
“This may not be a simple fever. He’s been unable to stay awake for more than a few minutes. He keeps passing out. And his vision was blurred, seriously blurred. He didn’t recognize me at first. And he didn’t recognize Sebastian at all.”
“Deliberately, d’you think?”
“Well, that’s certainly possible, but I really don’t think so.”
Abigail humphed. “Which doesn’t mean that foolish boy of mine will talk to Sebby when he does recognize him.”
Margaret was familiar with the nickname that only Abigail used for Sebastian, yet it was still jarring to hear it again, now that she knew the man. Sebastian Townshend was definitely not a Sebby anymore.
“Which reminds me,” Abigail continued. “Is Sebby back yet? I couldn’t find him anywhere earlier and I still have so much to talk to him about.”
“I’m sure he is—” Margaret paused when Abigail stood up and headed toward the door. “Wait a minute, Abbie. What about Douglas? He’s going to need constant attention for a few days, and distraction once he wakes, to keep him in bed. The doctor was adamant about that. He must remain in bed.”
“And?”
Margaret hesitated a moment, but it wasn’t the first time she had tried to mend the breach between mother and son. And this time she had a better reason for it.
“I think it would do him a world of good if you would visit him during his convalescence and actually speak to him, after he wakes, of course. Nothing to upset him, mind you.”
“Yes, yes, I suppose I can call a temporary truce and talk to that fool again—for now.”
Margaret hadn’t expected such easy compliance. But Abigail’s impatience was obvious. She probably would have agreed to anything just to end the conversation so she could go find Sebastian.
“That’s splendid, Abbie! We won’t want to upset him, though. Just trivial subjects. Nothing unpleasant.”
“You must be joking, gel. What other subjects are there around here but unpleasant ones?”